The Finish Line
by writeeofpassage
Summary: X-Men Origins: Wolverine. Logan finds Kayla's body after loosing his memory and feels like he should know who she is.


**I told myself I would only write Supernatural fics on here...screw that. After watching X-Men Origins: Wolverine, I really had to write this. It didn't turn out how I wanted, but I'm still happy I did it. Logan finds Kayla's body after he looses his memory and feels like he should know who she is. Enjoy...**

I open my eyes; the ground feels hard and hot beneath my firm, strong body. I blink my eyelids slowly, hesitantly, trying to grasp what is happening. I can't connect any thoughts, only panic rises within me. I sit up, and dizziness envelopes me. I can hear something jingle, I look down. Dog tags hang from my neck, clanging. I reach forward with my hand and feel them, the cool metal sooths my skin. I can feel markings carved into them with my fingers. I look at them. The name _Logan_ is etched deep into the metal, my name. I flip it over, uncertain. The name _Wolverine_ is engraved in the opposite side. The name feels familiar to me, as if it should mean something, as if it should hold some significance. I know it does, I feel that is does, I just can't recall what.

A loud breathing pounds in my head, and I search defensively for the source, until I realize that it is just me, just my own breathing. My chest is heaving and I can feel it rise and fall at a rapid pace, an uneven pace.

I gaze out at the barren land that surrounds me, dust clouding the air.

Suddenly a figure walks up to me, his voice rings out, "The kids are safe."

Immediately I am on guard, cautious. I turn in the direction the voice came from. I stand up, putting unearned trust in my legs. As it turns out, the trust is well placed. "Who are you?" I feel myself inquire. The words are out of my mouth before I can analyze them. The sound of my own voice shocks me, rough and yet smooth, but no matter the characteristics, it is still strange and foreign.

I hear his voice respond, confusion evident in it. "What do you mean who am I?" He sounds annoyed. He takes a few steps closer to me, moving well beyond my personal space. "I'm the guy who brought you here, now we gotta go." His voice adopts a more urgent tone.

I feel my hands reach out to grab him before he has even finished speaking. My fingers curl around his clothes, clinging to them.

"Where the hell am I?" My voice is harsh and rough.

"Listen, I'm a friend."

I take no time to process this, even consider it.

"What's my name?" I feel myself growl, impatience ground out with each word that passes through my lips.

He doesn't answer, I don't even know if I give this stranger adequate time to do so.

"What's my name?!" I growl again, my voice loud and callous. I shake his body with my hands.

"You're name is Logan." He utters calmly, trying to convey some of his tranquility onto me. It doesn't work. I can feel my ragged breath. I'm panting and my body is covered in a sheen of sweat. A sheen that may very well have been there before I awoke.

"You need to trust me, we have to go."

I release him. I'm not entirely sure why, but I do.

I don't know where I am, I don't know who I am. The heat ghosts across my taught skin with each stuffy breeze that blows through the air. He said he knew me, who I was. He said that my name was Logan. He wasn't lying, I know this for certain, I just don't know who Logan is. Maybe that's my name, but that is not who I am, at least, not anymore.

"Follow me," He instructs, his voice breaking through my silent reverie. And after one hesitant second, I find myself doing just that. "Now!" His voice urges and he begins to jog. I run after him, tailing him.

After a few seconds I catch sight of something, someone, lying motionless on the ground. Something draws my to her, something that I can't describe or explain, even to myself. As I get closer the feeling grows stronger. I stumble over to her, unsteady on my feet. She lies before me, limp and unmoving. Her body is still and straight, as if frozen. Her chest does not rise and fall; I can't hear the reassuring sounds of her breath, steady or unsteady. I bend down, my self-proclaimed friend hovers behind me, watching me. He has followed me over. I can sense his gaze on my back. I do not trust him, I can't conceive a valid reason why I should, but something in me, my deeper, darker instinct, tells me I should. I bend down and place my hand on her neck, searching for a pulse somewhere beneath her smooth skin.

Nothing.

Reluctantly, I slowly remove my hand.

I let my eyes, dark and unfamiliar with anything, even myself; appraise her, searching for a reason why I feel this…connection…with her. It doesn't make sense and I want to get up and walk away, run away, but I can't. Something is keeping me here, I can't look away. I don't dare to. Her eyes are blank, staring straight ahead, at everything and yet at nothing. She seems so familiar, and yet so much like a stranger. Something about the way her dark locks are splayed out behind her, beneath her, the way her eyes look, their shimmering depths, the way her pale skin reflects all the light that surrounds her, even just her very presence; speaks to me. Her prominent cheek bones shine a faint shade of crimson, and her skin is silky smooth.

I can here someone asking me a question. It's my self-proclaimed friend again. His words barely reach me, they barely crack through my foggy hearing, but they do. "Do you know her?"

I feel the need to respond, but I don't know why, or how. Such a simple question to ask, you would assume it would have a simple answer.

It does not.

I answer him anyways, the words I utter screaming against everything my instincts are shouting at me. "No." I shake my head silently as I speak the small word, as if trying to make myself believe it.

Sirens screech and I can feel my companion's tension. "These people really aren't gonna like what you've done to this place. We really need to go."

I want to go, I do, but I can't find the energy to do so. I realize that this, discovering who I am, is something I have to do on my own.

"I'll find my own way." And I know that it's true, whoever I am, whoever I was, is strong enough for that.

"Good luck." I hear him say. He walks away, away from me, away from her.

My attention never wavers from her, from her lifeless form.

I can't bare to look at her eyes anymore, they stare into the nothingness that surrounds her, I feel as if it surrounds me too. She lost herself, she lies here dead. I lost myself too, I am not dead, but I don't think I'm really alive either. Her eyes are glistening, their green-grey color so dusky and smooth. I reach forward and gently close her eyelids with my fingertips, breaking the hold her eyes have on me, ceasing the aching pain inside of myself.

I push myself up off of the ground, off of my knee and stare down at her. I don't know who she was, I feel as if I should, but the memory just isn't there. Maybe I don't know her, maybe I do. Either way, I can't stop the sense of sadness that wells up in my chest, the sense that this place, this world, has just suffered a great loss.

**Pleaseeee review! Thanks for reading!**


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